Key to the Highway
by ClaireDelair
Summary: Dean Winchester hasn't had a real case in a long time, so when multiple car crashes in Oklahoma coincide with demonic occurrences, he jumps at the chance to get out of the bunker. Only two survivors were records from the crashes. One of them, a 19 year-old Jane Hawthorne, is trying to hold out without a family. How did she survive? And where is Sam?
1. Chapter 1

It had been awhile since Dean had actually had a legitimate case. It was so hard to stay in the bunker now. Dean reached for his favorite breakfast cereal on the shelf and began to pour it into a bowl. After grabbing the milk to go with it, he sat down at the little round table in the kitchen and opened his laptop to go over the little evidence that the Internet managed to provide him.

This time the case was in a small town in Oklahoma just off of Route 102. There had been a series of car crashes in the same particular area for the past month and a half and some of the citizens in the city had been acting out strangely. The latest article from the local news station reported another crash just the day before, but this crash and the one before it were different. In the last two "accidents" the drivers had survived. The crash that had occurred yesterday, involved a 19-year-old girl named Jane Hawthorne, who was driving home from out of town. Apparently there had been trace amounts of sulfur surrounding each crash sight. Dean shut his computer and finished up the last three bites of his breakfast before tossing the bowl and spoon in the sink and heading for his room.

He shoved a few more shirts into his duffel bag, as well as two more fake badges just in case he needed them. Then he flung the stuffed duffel over his shoulder and flipped the light off as he walked out of the door.

It had been three years since he had traded away the Impala for the beat up orange pick up but he still hadn't gotten used to the feel of the truck. Dean drove into the hospital parking lot dressed in his "professional" suit and parked the car close to the entrance. If he needed to make a quick getaway, he wouldn't have to go far. Dean sauntered into the building where, according to the news, the girl was recovering, and made his way over to where the receptionist's desk was situated.

After a quick, charming smile to the nurse seated behind the desk, his job officially began.

"Hello ma'am, I'm from the FBI. I've been assigned the case of Jane Hawthorne. Which room is she in?" The nurse smiled back.

"I didn't realize that a car crash was being investigated by the feds. She's in room 205, second floor." And with a flirtatious hair flip, the nurse gave the most brilliant smile she could muster. Dean smirked back.

"Thank you." And he began to make his way up the stairs to the second story.

Dean mouthed the room numbers to himself until he found room 205 near the end of the hallway. He turned the corner into the threshold of the small room and knocked on the door.

"What is it now?" An annoyed voice sounded from behind the curtain behind the huge hospital bed. A young girl rounded the baby blue curtain and glanced at Dean before shoving some of her belongings into a small duffel bag. She was average height, muscular and slender but not skinny, with hazel eyes, freckles, and Chestnut brown hair. Jane was pretty but it wasn't quite clear whether she knew it or not.

"You can answer a couple of my questions if you don't mind." Dean held up his badge for clarification. "I'm Agent Irvine of the FBI."

"Oh really? Agent Irvine huh. Can I see your badge please?" Jane looked skeptical as she held out her hand for the badge. Dean handed it over. She took the badge, glanced at it, and then flipped it closed.

"Bullshit." She stated.

"About what?" Dean asked testily.

"Your badge. All FBI badges have five numbers. Yours has six. So I call bullshit. You're not from the FBI so who are you, really?" She handed Dean his falsified badge and he snatched it from her grasp.

"Fine, I'm a reporter. I was assigned your story so if you could—."

"No I don't want any more questions. I'm done. I was t-boned 5 miles out of town, my car was totaled and I was in critical condition but I'm fine. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to catch a cab to my house. Have a nice day." With that, Jane zipped up her bag, threw both it and her purse over her shoulder, and limped out of the room. Dean shoved his badge back into his pocket. Then, with an eye-roll, he turned and followed Jane into the hallway.

"Look, you need a ride and I want my questions answered. I could give you a ride home in exchange for answering those questions." Jane kept walking.

"You haven't exactly given me a reason to trust you. You lied about who you were and I still don't believe you. Why should I get into a car with you?" They both entered the elevator and Jane pressed the button for the first floor. Dean nodded his head in acknowledgement of her point. Should he tell her the truth? _Sam would have._ He decided to half tell her.

"Because your right. I'm, not actually a reporter either," the door opened and they stepped out. Jane made her way over to the receptionist's desk and was signing herself out. Dean leaned up against the edge of the desk. "Hey." He gave a quick hello to the nurse. Jane let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "But I can help you. There's a pattern with the crashes and yours is connected." Jane started to walk towards the door and after a quick smirk to the receptionist, Dean leapt up to follow Jane out the door. He stepped in front of her. "And I think I know what caused it." Jane glared at him and tried to side step him but Dean blocked her again. She looked up at him.

"Yet again, I ask why should I believe you? You have given me every reason to not trust you." She tried to move the other direction to get around him but this time, he blocked her path and grabbed her arm.

"GET. OFF. OF. ME." Jane articulated each word as she tried to shake his grip.

"I know you have no reason to trust me but I can help. 'Cause you and I both know that it wasn't an accident you were hit." Jane stopped struggling and looked at Dean. After a moment's deliberation, she forcefully shook Dean's hand off of her arm.

"Fine. But if you try anything I have a gun in my bag and I'm a great shot. Which car is yours?"

"The orange pick up." And Jane started to walk towards the beat up truck, Dean trailing behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Turn right here." Jane wasn't exactly being talkative. The most verbal she got was to give a direction; the rest of the trip was spent in silence from both parties with the radio playing faintly in the background. Dean looked over at her for about the tenth time. It had been a long time since he had a person in the passenger seat. "Take a picture it'll last longer." Jane had obviously noticed the glances from Dean. He was a little annoyed by the comment, but before he could shell out a snarky retort, Jane spoke. "It's the blue one."

She pointed to a small, two-story house with a bright yellow door. Dean turned the truck into the driveway and parked. Before he could completely turn the truck off, Jane had gotten out of the car and had hauled her duffle bag out onto the lawn. The grass looked like it hadn't been mowed in awhile. Dean opened his door and took in his surroundings as he slammed the door shut. He walked up to the porch, where Jane was having issues unlocking the front door.

"Need help?" Jane didn't answer but kept fiddling with her keys until the door finally opened. She reached for her bag but found that Dean had already picked it up for her.

"I can get it myself you know." Dean glanced at her and walked over the threshold. Jane widened her eyes as she sighed and followed him in, shutting the door behind her.

Dean dropped the duffel just inside the living room. There was, surprisingly, a lot of furniture. It was much different than the bunker. He walked past the entrance to the stairs and into the kitchen. Jane limped past him to open up the sliding glass door, letting a huge bundle of fur into the kitchen. _Great, a dog. _

"I hope you don't mind, Teddy likes to meet new people." The black Labrador Retriever ran over to Dean and started to sniff out the new scents of a possible friend. Dean reached down to pet the dog.

"How old is he?"

"Four. I found him in a cardboard box on the side of the road. He's been with me ever since." Dean saw the first genuine smile of Jane as Teddy wandered back over to her and she leaned down to rub his ears. Dean looked around the kitchen. It was getting to be a slightly awkward silence so he decided to do something that he wasn't quite talented at: small talk.

"So where are your parents?" Dean slid his hands into his pockets as he meandered over to the kitchen table. He pulled one hand out and set it on top of the chair as he turned to look at Jane. She had stopped petting Teddy who was busy nuzzling her hands for more.

"They're dead. Died a long time ago. Can I get you something to drink?" She was obviously trying to change the subject. Jane stood up and walked over to the fridge and grabbed herself a soda.

"Actually yes. Do you have a beer?" She glared at him. "Okay, Okay just kidding. I'll take a water." She shut the fridge and walked over to the cupboard to grab a glass, then over to the sink and turned the tap to cold. Jane walked over to the table and gave Dean his water as she motioned for him to sit down.

"What happened? Don't you have extended family to stay with?" Dean tried to fish for more information that may become relevant to the case. Jane smiled in amazement.

"You really know how to kick off a conversation don't you?" she stopped for a second, and then went on. "My parents were killed in a car crash when I was three. My older brother, Seth, and I moved in with our Aunt. This is her house but I'm taking care of it until she gets out of jail. My brother went into the military 3 years ago and was deployed a few days before my birthday. The car that I was driving was his parting gift. I got a knock on the door four months later and was informed that he was killed in action so now it's just me and Teddy." Jane said all of this matter-of-fact. This bothered Dean because she seemed way too okay with it. He thought back to Bela, who sold her soul to get rid of her family so she could inherit the family fortune. But this didn't make sense for Jane; she wasn't rolling in money.

The phone rang jolting Dean out of his train of thought. Jane had gotten up to pick up the receiver.

"Hello? Oh! Yes I'm fine…. Mmhmm… Okay, yep be right over… Nope I have a ride," she looked over at Dean and raised her eyebrows. Dean nodded because what else was he supposed to do. Say no? "Okay I'll see you soon. Bye." She put the receiver down and rapped her fingers on the counter. "I need to go to the impound to take a look at my car. Can I get a lift?"

"Yeah, sure." Perfect timing. Dean could look at the car to see what—or who—had caused the accident. Jane nodded and grabbed her purse and her keys and started to limp towards the door.


	3. Chapter 3

They pulled into the impound lot about 20 minutes later. It was a slightly more vibrant ride over with the occasional conversation. Dean didn't try to start any small talk; Jane was the one who instigated most of the conversations about the weather and such. The huge wired gate began to retract and Dean, at the sight of all the cars, couldn't help but think of Bobby's. Jane had her head rested on her hand and was looking out at the rows and rows of cars that had been smashed either by an accident or by the noisy machinery that was drowning out Guns N' Roses. Dean turned into a parking spot and turned off the truck, which shuddered to a stop.

"Nice place isn't it?" Dean turned to Jane with a smirk on his face.

"If you like the look of smashed cars and damaged lives then yes, I suppose it would be considered nice." Jane smiled back. Then she opened the door and got out.

"Jane?" Jane turned around and when she saw who spoke, she broke out into a huge smile.

"Hey Blake!" She limped over to where the guy was standing and returned his hug. They obviously knew each other. Dean waited patiently outside of his truck.

"You look great for someone who was just let out of the hospital." He smiled at her and she slapped him teasingly on the shoulder.

"Thanks." She was still smirking though. She motioned over to Dean. "This is Dean. He was my ride over here and my ride home from the hospital since _someone_ couldn't pick me up," Blake tried to speak but Jane didn't stop talking. "Dean, this is my friend Blake." Dean smiled with closed lips and reached out to shake Blake's hand.

"Hi."

"Hi." The handshake was firm but a little tense. Jane seemed to notice but didn't pursue the subject.

"So, where is my car?" Her voice wavered a bit as she asked the question. Blake recovered his friendly composure and held out his hand to motion over to where the car was. Jane took the lead and Blake matched her pace. Dean tagged along behind.

"How does she look?" Jane asked.

"It's pretty bad Jane. I don't know how much can be fixed." Blake was cautious when he presented this news. He seemed to know how much the car meant to Jane.

"What kind of car?" Dean piped up from the rear of the caravan. Jane looked over her shoulder and motioned for him to join her and Blake. Dean picked up his pace until he was level with the pair.

"I'm _kind_ of a car geek. It's a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. It was my brother's before he left; he got it off of this guy who traded it for his truck. I don't know why he sold it; it was in perfect condition." Before Dean could say anything more, Blake spoke.

"There it is. Well, what's left of it." He pointed over to a badly bent black '67 Chevy. Jane ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair in frustration. Then she walked over to the broken car, glass strewn around the beaten up tires. She was hit on the driver's side just behind the door according to the dent pattern: Blake was right; it looked pretty bad. It was surprising that she had survived the crash. Blake walked over to Jane's side and touched her arm in an effort to show sympathy but Jane didn't respond. She was too busy figuring out what she could do to save what was left of the car.

Dean was shocked. It looked just like his old Impala; same year, same color, same everything. He walked over to the car and ran his fingers over the bent frame. Flashbacks of his father and Sam and his almost fatal crash so many years ago flooded his mind as he made his way towards the trunk.

The accident hadn't left the back of the car unscathed; both taillights had been broken and the trunk wasn't allowed to close thanks to the messed up frame. Dean opened the lid to the trunk of the car. Sure enough, the hidden compartment was still there, along with the barely-there outline of the Devil's Trap he had painted over before he gave his baby away. As he rested one hand to support his weight on the lid, he ran the other down his face. What were the chances that he ended up finding his car on a case that was thousands of miles away from Lebanon?

"Anything back there that the authorities missed?" Jane called from the hood of the Impala. Dean pushed his weight back onto his legs and slammed the trunk shut, just like he used to.

"No, there isn't anything back here that belongs to you." Dean began to walk back over to where Jane and Blake were standing. It looked like they were in an argument.

"Jane, it doesn't make any sense to try to fix it! The frame is trashed not to mention the interior of the car; the trunk can't even close completely."

"I've got to try! I can't let Seth…" Jane sounded like she was tearing up. Blake's expression softened and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Okay… but it's going to be one hell of a job." Dean didn't think that his concern for Jane was completely sincere. He didn't know what it was but it wasn't normal. "You're going to have to pay for the car though. Losing the car means losing the scrap metal that it would have produced."

"That's fine. As long as I can have it back." Jane looked incredibly relieved. Seth must have meant a lot to her.

Jane handed over several twenty-dollar bills to Blake, which he promptly pocketed.

"That should do it then. All you need is a way to tow it out of here."

"I can do that. My truck has a hitch you can use." Dean piped up causing both Jane and Blake to turn their heads. Blake glared at Dean for a split second before composing himself. Jane looked skeptical yet thankful at the same time.

"Thanks." It was a short comment but it was better than none at all. Blake uncrossed his arms and let them drop by his sides.

"Well then, I guess we should get this show on the road. You want to grab your truck so we can hook it up?" It was Dean's turn to glare at Blake this time. He didn't like being ordered around, especially not by someone who was younger than him. He glanced at Jane then set off to pull his truck around.

The car ride home was much like the first: little to no conversation. This time, however, it was more of a melancholy silence. It was obvious she was either thinking about the crash or her brother or both. Dean didn't want to instigate any conversation; he knew all about 'not wanting to talk about it.'

Instead of pulling into the driveway, Dean pulled his truck and the towed Impala next to the curb before stopping the car and turning it off. It was Dean who got out first this time. In fact, by the time Jane got out of the car, the Impala was almost completely unhitched from the back of Dean's truck.

"Hey, I um, I wanted to say thank you for helping me out both at the hospital and back at the impound. I've been kinda rude to you and I'm not usually like that, so, I'm uh, I'm sorry." Jane was looking at the sidewalk for most of the awkward speech, her arms hugging her middle. Dean finished unhooking the last cord that connected the two vehicles and stood up.

"Don't mention it." He offhandedly stated as he wiped his hands covered in grease on his worn jeans. There was a pause in the conversation and Jane began to walk back towards the house when Dean called out to her. "Hey do you want any help fixing it up? I know a lot about cars, especially this one." Dean was itching to be back to work, fixing up his baby, sitting in the driver's seat, Sam by his side-.

Jane turned around halfway up the walkway. She considered his offer for a moment before speaking.

"Thanks for the offer but I think I got it." She had an edge to her voice again. Looks like the moment of gratitude had faded away. She turned towards the house again. Dean followed her up to the front porch and tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

"What." Jane stated, clearly irritated.

"If you think of anything that relates to the crashes, here's my number." Jane took the slip of paper from Dean and he sauntered back down the steps and down the walkway to his truck.

Jane walked inside her house and shut the door, loudly. Dean, back in his truck, shut the driver's door and put the key in the ignition. He looked into his rearview mirror to take another look at his baby, then shook his head and put the car in drive.

_There better be a bar around here._ Dean thought as he checked into his room at the Super 8 Motel. He tossed his duffel bag onto one of the beds and headed out into the hot Oklahoma night.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean woke up the next morning sore, tired, and hung-over. Driving all day, strapping up and untying a car and going to a bar for around six beers just doesn't sit well. As Dean got himself ready for another long day, he thought about the information he had learned and what evidence he still needed. He knew that there were only two survivors of the crashes and that he wouldn't be able to get anything out of Jane until she wanted to cooperate. This left the old man, whom he had yet to track down. He knew that there were trace amounts of sulfur surrounding each accident, which pointed to a demon and quite possibly a demonic possession. Dean also knew that Jane's accident had involved his Impala and, even though he knew it wasn't his anymore, that bothered him immensely.

He sat down by the cheap wooden table that wobbled every time an object was set down on it and opened his laptop. Dean wanted to find out who the old man was and where he lived to get information on his crash. Jane would have to wait until he was sure she would be more comfortable talking to him about the crash and that obviously wasn't today. He checked the police database as well as the local news's website to get the info he needed.

Apparently, George Wilkins lived in a retirement home just outside of downtown. He was around 70 years old and had one living family member left in town, his wife Barbara, who was unable to take care of him. Dean found the address of the retirement home and shut his laptop. He didn't bother dressing up today as his suit was covered in dust and grease from towing the Impala back to Jane's house. Then he grabbed his keys and his cargo jacket and walked out the door to his truck.

Dean arrived at the retirement home about quarter after eleven but before he was able to open the door, his cell phone rang. He didn't recognize the number as he flipped the phone open.

"Dean Winchester."

"Hi Dean, it's Jane. I was thinking about what you said yesterday and I want to talk about my crash." Dean was a bit taken aback. It seemed unusual for that quick of a turn around but hey, it was an opportunity to get more of the story.

"That would be great. I'm kinda busy at the moment so would you want to meet around…12:30?" There was a slight pause on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, sure that would work. There's a burger place called Hamburger King. You wanna meet there?"

"Sounds awesome."

"Yep. Well, I gotta go so, see ya at 12:30. Bye." And Jane hung up the phone. Dean hung up and stared at the phone for a second before putting it away and getting out of the truck. He was still amazed that Jane had called so soon. Dean sauntered up to the building and walked towards the front desk to ask which room Wilkins was in.

"Hello sir, I'm Charlie Granger. I'm George Wilkins's nephew and I haven't seen him in ages. Could you tell me what room he's in?" The man behind the desk didn't even look up as he spoke.

"Room 14, down the hallway to the left. His nurse is outside." Dean stopped and blinked then moved in the direction the man pointed out to him.

He was greeted outside the door by a middle-aged nurse who was just exiting the room.

"Hello, may I help you?" She seemed friendly enough, if stressed.

"Hi, I'm Charlie Granger, George's nephew. Is it possible that I could speak with him? I was devastated when I heard about his accident." Her smile faded rather quickly after his statement. She readjusted her grip on the food tray she had brought out of the room.

"Oh. Oh yes well I suppose that's fine. He's just inside. Let me just put this tray in the kitchen and I'll go with you. My name is Rachel."

"Well it's very nice to meet you Rachel." She gave him a tight smile, which he returned and then she turned away towards what Dean could only expect to be the direction of the kitchen.

After waiting ten minutes, Dean was getting impatient. He was about to walk after Rachel when she appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Sorry about that. I was caught up with something in management. This way." And before Dean could respond she had opened the door and motioned for him to follow her in.

George Wilkins looked unusually well for his age and predicament. There was no hemorrhaging on the visible body, and he was sitting up attentively. Dean noticed this and was cautious when he began approached him.

"Hey Uncle George! How've you been? I heard about your accident and wanted to check up on ya."Dean smiled tightly hoping his ruse would work. Everything depended on Wilkins appearing to recognize him.

"Oh yes! I have been fine thank you for asking." George turned to Rachel. "He was always such a thoughtful boy." He smiled brightly at Dean whose returned smile did not reach his eyes. Dean was relieved to not have been discovered but the comment was a bit nerve-racking.

"So what happened? The crash I mean. It sounded pretty bad from Aunt Barbara."

"Now you know that she like to be called Auntie B when all you kids are around."

"Right, sorry."

"Well, I was driving late at night and then I lost my vision for a few moments and then there was a car next to mine!" Dean kept smiling out of good graces for the old man.

"Can you elaborate on that a bit?"

"Oh yes. I was listening to that new song on the radio, oh what was it called again? Oh yes. The Wayward Wind. I just _love_ that song!" Dean was attempting to be interested in the man's monologue but he was getting the feeling that he wasn't going to get anywhere with him.

"Anything else."

"Oh! And Rachel was with me." George looked over at Rachel and smiled. She grinned back at him forcefully. Dean looked over at her, smiling bitchily.

"Well I'm glad your okay. I'm just going to go outside to have a talk with Rachel for a minute okay?" George nodded. Dean looked over at Rachel who looked just a bit frightened. He left the room and waited in the hallway for Rachel to reassure her patient. She left the room and closed the door, her back to Dean.

"So you were in the car with him hmm?" She turned around to face him.

"Yes I was. I was only there to make sure he didn't fall asleep while driving."

"You let him _drive_?" Dean was appalled. Here was a man, obviously not capable of walking, let alone driving a vehicle, speeding down a highway in the middle of the night.

"Look, it's not what you think! He had started to walk the week before and he seemed well enough to drive on the highway after he had driven around the facility safely. He was going to be released but then the accident happened." She crossed her arms defensively as she spoke. The story sounded ludicrous to Dean.

"Fine, fine whatever. Do you know how he was able to walk again?"

"No, that's the weird part. He was paralyzed from the waist down when he was admitted to the facility. It's like his guardian angels where looking down on him or something." Dean tensed just the slightest at the mention of angels. He hadn't heard from Cas or any angel since…

"Okay. Thanks. I'll be back sometime this week before I head home to see him again." And with that, Dean made his way out of the building and into his car.

He sat there for a moment. _How is it that a man who was paralyzed can suddenly walk perfectly fine and is allowed to drive then gets into an accident re-paralyzing him?_ Then he smirked. How ironic that she mentioned angels when it's a demonic case.

Dean shook his head and turned the truck on. He had some time to kill before he met up with Jane. He decided to head back to the burger joint they had agreed on to do more research. _Who knows, _Dean thought, _maybe I'll run into Cas?_


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had had around five cups of coffee in the time that it took for Jane to arrive at the diner. He had gotten no farther with the lead on Wilkins and was, to be honest, a little frustrated.

"Hey." Jane was slightly out of breath when she walked in the door. Her hair was on top of her head in a messy knot and she was wearing a loose top and jean shorts.

"Hi." There was a moment of silence as Jane motioned him over to sit at a booth on the far side of the restaurant.

"Hey Hannah! Can I get an iced tea please?" Jane obviously knew the waitress that worked here. Hannah gave Jane a smile and stepped back into the kitchen to get the drink.

"I work here." She had given the answer before Dean asked the question.

"Aah." Dean nodded. Hannah brought back the tea to Jane and had bought the coffee pot with her. Dean smiled as she filled his mug.

"Thanks."

"Thanks." They both said it at the same time.

Dean could tell that Jane was nervous. Although it was her idea to tell him about her crash, she was obviously uneasy about the ordeal that had happened four days ago.

"So what were you up to today? Questioning the old man?" She had a quizzical look on her face but Dean's silence gave her the answer. She had guessed correctly. "Good that's just what a man who is dying of Alzheimer's needs. Did you impersonate an officer this time?"

"No, actually I'm his nephew." Dean responded with an exasperated sigh and a forced smile. He had only been here for a minute and he was being reprimanded by a 19 year-old.

She made up her tea and looked up at Dean. "So what do you want to know?"

"Just tell me the story as you remember it. Details help." She nodded and thought for a moment then began.

"Okay. I was driving down Route 102 at around, oh I don't know, 10:00 maybe? And I was about 50 miles from town. I reached a point in the road where it was a three-way intersection; a smaller road from some farm intersected the highway there. It was really dark out and I was listening to Seth's mix tape that he left in the player. I was a little distracted," she seemed embarrassed at the memory as she looked down at her drink. "Anyway I was coming up to this intersection and suddenly there was this other car. It came out of nowhere, he—or she—didn't have any headlights on so I didn't have a lot of time to maneuver out of the way. I don't know how I made the decision but I slammed on the accelerator so I wasn't hit right in the door. Apparently that saved my life but I was still knocked unconscious on impact. The next day I woke up in the hospital with a bunch of IVs sticking out of my arms so that was fun. But that's really all I can remember." She stopped talking and looked up from her glass. Dean was nodding his head at her words, not speaking and took another sip from the mug. All the caffeine was definitely helping to get rid of his ever-present hangover.

"Nothing else sticks out in your mind?" He asks. Jane's brow furrowed with concentration and she shook her head.

"Nope sorry."

"What was the make of the car that hit you?" Dean was pressing a bit now. Jane's description of her crash paralleled his own, which was alarming.

"It may have been a truck or a large SUV? It was dark and like I said, they didn't have their headlights on." She pushed her glass aside after she finished the liquid in it and folded her arms across her chest. "How is this going to help with the case? I already told all of this to the cops and they haven't gotten anywhere with it. " She seemed anxious and a little frustrated. But Dean did see her point; Jane didn't know the information that he knew since he was a child. He took a deep breath and leaned back into the booth.

"Okay I'm going to explain something to you and it's gonna sound a little crazy." Jane looked a little alarmed at Dean's statement but didn't say anything. She waited patiently for him to continue. "You know the stories about the 'monsters under the bed?'" Jane nodded. "Well, they're real. Almost all of them are."

Jane had the deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. She didn't say anything and Dean felt forced to explain further. "I've known about them since I was young and I've been hunting ever since. Vampires, werewolves, zombies and everything in between."

Jane scoffed at his words. "I'm sorry, who do you think I am? Do you _really_ expect me to believe you?"

Dean sat up and attempted to explain a bit more.

"I'm not kidding. Look, I'll be right back." He slid out of the seat and headed towards the door. Before he could walk out the waitress, Hannah, called out to him.

"Hey! You gonna pay?" She sounded frustrated and annoyed. Dean turned around as he pushed the door open.

"I'll be right back I just need to grab something." With that, he turned and meandered over to his truck. Dean opened the driver's side door and reached into the glove compartment and grabbed his dad's journal. Then he shut the box, then the door, and walked back inside. "See? I'm back." Hannah just glanced disapprovingly at him as he slid back into the seat.

Jane had her arms crossed and her foot was tapping on the gray tiled floor.

"What the hell is that?" She obviously didn't like being ditched in a restaurant.

"This is my dad's old journal. I use it to find and hunt the monsters I was telling you about earlier. I've had it ever since I've been on my own." He pushed it over to Jane's side of the table and she caught the battered old book before it slid off the table.

She began flipping through it, her expressions changing with each new description and drawing.

"And I got this done to make sure I don't get possessed by demons. Anti-possession tattoo." This time he grinned a little to diffuse the tension as he pulled down the collar of his shirt so that only Jane could see the ink that covered his collarbone. Jane looked up at the tattoo then down at the book with narrowed eyes. Then she shut the journal forcefully and shoved it back at Dean.

"You seriously think I'm that stupid enough to fall for this crap? Am I being punked right now? I cannot believe this. You are just incredible. I don't know why I EVER let you drive me home from the hospital." Jane was just about shouting now and the entire diner was looking toward them with interest. Dean looked around and started to panic a bit.

"Look, Jane, I really am trying to help you—"

"Ha very funny. You know what? You should be ashamed of yourself. God I was so _stupid._" She stood up and walked over to the cash register to hand Hannah some money for her drink. Then she walked over to the door, a slight limp still visible, and pushed it open to walk out.

Dean immediately followed her after forking out some cash to pay for the overabundance of coffee as well as a generous tip. He opened the door of the burger joint and whipped his head around to see Jane walking down the street. He hopped into his truck, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot to catch up.

_For getting out of the hospital four days ago, she can walk pretty damn fast._ Dean turned the corner and pulled up beside Jane.

"Jane, get in the car. I can drive you to wherever you need to go." Jane, however, just kept walking. She chuckled.

"Yeah right."

Dean kept pace with her in his car, the window rolled down.

"Look I'm sorry okay? That was a lot of information to handle and I should've broken it to you easier." Dean apologized . It was obvious that he was pissed but it wasn't clear if it was at himself, her reaction, or the situation. Jane's limp was becoming worse the longer she walked.

"You're gonna strain your leg if you keep walking like that." Jane still kept walking, arms crossed, a look of determination on her face. But after another block of her disjointed walk, she finally broke down.

"Fine, but this is it. I never want to see or hear from you again got it? I'm sick and tired of being played." Dean shook his head but pulled the car over. He had just lost his best lead. Jane opened the door of the truck and hopped in and buckled up after shutting the door. Then she reached over and turned the music up, crossed her arms and set about scrutinizing the scenery.

Dean pulled up to the sad looking blue house once again and put the truck in park. Jane unlocked her seatbelt, opened the door and without so much as a thank you, began to limp up the pathway to the front door.

Dean waited in his truck until she was inside her house then flipped open his cell phone, scanning his contacts to see if he could call anyone.

That's when he heard the blood-curdling scream coming from the interior of Jane's house.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was just about to start the truck back up when he heard the blood-curdling scream coming from Jane's house. Without hesitating, Dean was out the door, knife and gun in hand, sprinting up the pathway. He tried the door, but it was locked. _Naturally. _Dean backed up a few steps then threw his foot against the door at full force, breaking the door open.

He quickly took in the scene before him: Jane was halfway up the stairs, one of the two men in the house following her. The other was standing just below the stairs watching and waiting to see what would happen. Jane had a knife in her hands, pointing toward the man cornering her upstairs. As he had opened the door, the second man turned toward Dean; his eyes still black. Barely a moment had passed before Dean and the demon began to fight. A scuffle and a broken coffee table later, Dean killed the demon. He whipped around to where Jane had been then rushed up the stairs. There was a door to his right and a hallway leading into four other rooms.

"Back off!" Jane's voice was in the nearest room to Dean's left. Her voice was shaking. Dean turned immediately to his left and into the bonus room of the house. Jane was backed up against the far wall, knife trained on the other demon who was slowly advancing toward her.

"Hey." The demon turned at Dean's voice and smiled at him. Then the smirk disappeared from his face. He turned to Jane who was slowly backing away, the knife no longer in her hands. When the demon spun around, Dean could see the knife that Jane had held, sticking out of the center of his back. Dean lunged at the demon just as Jane began to scream. He caught him around the neck, and was just about to knife him like he did the other one, when the demon smoked out, the black fog dispersing throughout the air.

Dean was left holding a dead corpse in his arms and Jane, who was now leaning her back against the wall, sobbing.

"You feeling okay?" Dean handed Jane a mug of coffee that he hastily made in the kitchen. Jane was sitting on her couch in the living room, the glass from the broken table still strewn about the floor. Dean had disposed of the bodies in the garage until he could move them to a place where it wouldn't incriminate him or Jane if they were found.

As Jane took the mug, she only nodded at him. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, her face a blank slate as she took a sip from her mug. Dean sat down on the chair directly across from her and leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, waiting for her to speak. He had guided her downstairs to the couch before heading back upstairs to collect the man who served as the demon's meat-sack.

After a few more sips of coffee, Jane spoke.

"This coffee tastes like shit." That got a slight smile out of Dean. _Sam would have said something like that,_ Dean thought before he realized what he was thinking. He quickly turned his attention back to Jane.

"So I take it you're okay then?" Jane looks at him then, some of the old ferocity back in her expression.

"I was just attacked by two—"

"Demons" Dean interjected. Jane stared at him then continued talking.

"_Demons, _was almost _murdered, _and you expect me to be _okay?"_ Jane took another sip of her coffee. "I hope you're being sarcastic." Her hands were still slightly trembling.

"Well, you're not seriously hurt are you?"

"I'm fine." Was all she replied. They sat in silence for awhile, Jane sipping her coffee, Dean awkwardly staring around the house. Finally, Jane spoke.

"So I believe you now." Dean looks at her. Jane stares back and then down at the floor. "About what you said at the restaurant, the ghosts, werewolves, vampires, demons . . . all of it. Where did you learn it from?"

"Learn what from?" Dean asks. He didn't really want to get into this right now. He didn't want to get into it ever actually. But Jane doesn't pick this up.

"The whole stabbing, killing thing and just about all of it in general. I mean, no normal person knows about this stuff right? Or am I just crazy?" She sets her now empty mug down on the floor beside her couch, resting her arms on her knees, mimicking Dean's posture. Dean sits up, rubs his eyes, and pauses.

"Well, I kind of grew up hunting. My mom died because of a demon and my dad dragged us around trying to kill the son of a bitch who did it. I learned how to kill monsters along the way and I kind of, well, I went dark side for awhile, and then . . ." Dean paused here. He knew he was skipping a lot of the details but he really didn't want to relive them, especially what had happened just a few months back. Jane just waited for him to continue. "Then, I came to my senses and now I'm here." He slouched back down in his chair and waited for Jane to say something. She contemplated what she just heard before speaking.

"Who is 'us'?" If the house wasn't silent before it sure was now. An ant could walk through the living room and they could hear the tiny footsteps.

"My brother, Sam, and me." Jane looks confused at the comment.

"Where is Sam now?" Dean looks away. The only words he can muster up are,

"Sam's gone."

Jane doesn't push it; she knew that tone of voice too well. It was her voice, once. It was how she sounded when she found out her parents weren't coming to pick her up from school that day, it was how she felt when her aunt couldn't come home to take care of them. It was how she sounded when she had to explain that her brother had been killed in Iraq.

She ran her hands through her hair that had fallen out of the messy bun during the fight.

"I'm sorry." That's really all there was to say. Because no matter how hard someone tries to tell you that it's going to be okay, that they are there for you, that your family is in a "better place," you know it's not true. It's not going to be okay, nobody can be there for you like _they _could. And all you can do is hope and pray that there is an afterlife and that the people you love are in the better part of it.

Dean doesn't seem to acknowledge her. He just gets up and starts to move around, tiding up the living room. Jane sits still for a few more minutes before standing.

"Dean." He keeps working. "_Dean." _He looks up then but doesn't stop collecting the bigger pieces of shattered glass. "You want a beer?" He smiles then; not a big smile, just one corner of his mouth turned up.

"Sure."

"Okay." Jane turns and walks out of the room and into the kitchen where the booze is hidden under the sink.


End file.
